Good Enough
by Flanclanman
Summary: FSlash GWHG. Ginny looks back on her unrequited love of Hermione. Then helps her escape from Ron. Gratuitous angst, a teeny bit of ladypornz and woman-beater!Ron (not nice, but it fits with the plot).


Well, well, well, we meet again. I have here my first_ femmeslash_. Whoooo -everybody cheer- I hope it'll be ok... it's slightly depressing, but aren't we all? This was inspired by the song Good Enough by Sarah McLachlan, hence the title.

**Summary: **Ginny looks back on her love of Hermione and helps her escape from the Ron. _(sorry, chaps, that's the best summary I could think of.)_

**Warnings: **FSlash GW/HG kinda one-sided, lady pornz, woman-beater Ron and implied Harry slash. I bet you can't guess who I imagined Harry with

**Good Enough**

Why can't you see that you deserve so much more than him? He treats you like less than nothing. I remember when you smiled all the time, I remember when you laughed. I remember spring afternoons in the sun by the lakeside, with filched sandwiches from the Great Hall hidden in our coats. You let me break the rules just for those times. The wicked grins we exchanged at the gossip we overheard under the huge willows, watching the squid playing in the water with the mermen.

The soft smiles you gave me when you were truly happy. And how I fell in love with every one of them.

I recall the night we spent in July, when we sat up all night with the bottles of wine we stole from the kitchen when mum's back was turned. She never did find out it was us. I remember your flushed pink cheeks, and your gleeful giggles as we told each other everything there was to know. Your brown eyes sparkled brightly even in the dim light from a wand.

I remember the heart stopping moment, when you put your head on my shoulder, and looked up into my eyes. Our lips were so close. I tried so hard to stop the pounding in my chest, I _knew _you could hear it. You licked your lips so innocently, I just couldn't help myself.

Those soft lips have haunted me since that fateful moment when they touched. As has that sinfully sweet tongue and your smooth skin.

You let me push you down on the bed we sat upon, offering yourself up to my roaming hands. I traced the lines of your body reverently, as they should always be and worshiped your entirety as you deserve. I touched your supple young breasts through your cotton shirt, treating them with such gentleness I would have expected you to hardly feel it. But you squirmed under my finger tips, showing me your pleasure.

He could never offer you the love I can. He doesn't know about the secrets you can hide. He doesn't see the beauty of your mind. He doesn't care about the fragility of your heart. Brother of mine or not, he will never deserve you.

Our clothes were soon tossed aside, they hindered our exploration. I remember how we giggled as we struggled over bra straps and trouser buttons. I can still hear that voice laughing in my ear as your hands fiddled behind my back. I had to guide your fingers with my own. I couldn't help but gaze into your eyes and just get lost in them. You seemed to notice my eyes, and realised it wasn't a laughing matter.

Nothing that happened between us could ever be a laughing matter.

Then our mouths connected again, and our tongues joined in that sensual dance. My hand wandered down to your thighs, brushing them ever so lightly, seeking approval. You moaned sweetly into my mouth. I allowed my fingers to slide gently to your sex, caressing the soft hair there. Your hips began to rock as I pushed one finger between your lips and let my finger into your wet entrance. Another moan followed my action, but I have never been sure whether it was yours or mine.

I would give anything and everything to feel like I did right then again, to make you feel like that again.

My lips trailed down your bare chest, tasting the mounds of your breasts, suckling them. And you writhed. And I smiled. And my tongue swept at your pale pink nipples, my breath tickling them to stand. I remember your back arched so beautifully I couldn't stop myself from licking the upwards curve of your body. And finally my lips found your groin, and I lapped at your soft inner thighs.

Good gods, I remember you smelled divine in a way no other woman could ever. I should know, I've had so many since you. They were all bushy haired and brown eyed. Some looked so similar to you that I could imagine it was you I was pleasuring during those long nights.

But they never smelt right, never sounded right, never tasted right. They were never _you_. And you are the one I will always want, need.

I remember plundering your sweet sex with my tongue, seeking out your clitoris to suck and lick at it. The sounds you made were musical to my ears; a symphony of moans, groans and cries.

I bet he's never made you feel the way I did that night.

Oh, what a lovely picture you made when you came; your hips curving up onto my mouth, your mouth open in a silent scream, your eyes closed tightly. Tiny beads of sweat glistened on your forehead like little diamonds. The taste of your orgasm covered my tongue, and I savoured it as the most precious of treats.

I pulled myself back up the bed to lie beside you and smiled at you when a goofy grin graced your features.

'Enjoy yourself?' I whispered. You opened a sleepy eye and giggled. I kissed you again, and I found I couldn't stop. Your kisses were the sweetest I had ever had, and ever would have. We kissed and murmured nothings until neither of us could hold our heads up any longer.

I remember the whispered _I love you _I gave you that was lost to the night.

It destroyed something in me the morning after when you apologised and suggested that we never speak of it again. I could hold back my tears only until you left the room for breakfast and a hangover cure.

A month later, Ron asked you out. You said yes. My old dorm room walls might still have holes in them from my anger at you both. I felt used and betrayed and so mind-numbingly hurt. You wouldn't have believed how difficult it was for me to smile for you. Harry was the only one who noticed something was wrong, isn't that wonderful? He helped me so much, eventually you and the family all thought we were dating. That was easy to pretend, it still is.

Five years we've been pretending now. It just seemed like the right idea; both of us loving someone we weren't allowed to love, so we shared our sorrow and brought strangers home at the weekends, usually Muggles that could easily be _Obliviated._

It was hardly a shock when you announced that McGonagall had offered you the position of Transfigurations professor at Hogwarts the year after I left. It was even less of a shock when you and Ron announced your engagement a few months afterwards.

Of course the whole of the Hogwarts faculty was invited to your wedding, as were all the Weasleys and a number of your relatives. Harry was best man, obviously. And I was given the task of being your maid of honour. Can you possibly imagine how that stung? _Helping _to give you away to that idiot.

But you were happy and I couldn't find a fault with that. As long as you're happy I'll always do my best to be the same. But that doesn't mean it's easy.

The wedding, by wedding standards, was lovely: everyone commented on how radiant you looked, how handsome Ron looked, how nice it was to have the whole family together again; all that rot. Personally, I thought that dress was awful, it was too puffy. Your make-up was also atrocious; why on _earth_ did you let anyone coat you in it? You'll always look so much more beautiful as you are.

The reception was dull, and painful. A huge marquee was erected in the garden of the Burrow with a mass of chairs and buffet tables and that god-awful simpering band, The Pink Pumpkins. Harry gave a speech at some point, but I couldn't force myself to listen; instead, I searched among your relatives for a cousin or someone that looked anything like you. I only know that he promised, for my sake, when he was writing it, not to include anything about how he always _knew_ you and Ron were meant to be together. He said he thought you were awful for each other; that Ron could never appreciate your mind the way I could.

I cried and hugged him when he told me that.

Sometime during the evening Harry and I danced to keep up appearances; it was fun for a while, I admit. He's possibly the closest thing I have to a best friend nowadays. I would say that you are, but I'd be lying; you're so much more than that. I stared at you all through that dance, and Harry stared at his own forbidden fruit, each of us longing to be in someone else's arms.

In the end, I did manage to bag one of your cousins for quick grope and a snog in the coat cupboard. And Harry took some random man up to my room in the Burrow for a fast fuck. Our discretion with our conquests is now a practised art, so no one noticed.

Watching you leave for your honey-moon was probably the worst part. You smiled and giggled and your cheeks were flushed with happiness. And Ron kissed you thoroughly and you grinned goofily. I felt a stab to my heart when I finally realised I would never be able to make you grin like that again. It would always be him, regardless of whether he deserves it or not.

And now, as I cradle you while you're in tears with bruises on your broken body, I still know that you'll smile like that only if he comes through the floo and gives false apologies and makes promises that are bound to break. I just wish that you'd realise he doesn't love you anymore, he keeps you. Like a shiny toy he's allowed to play with and throw around whenever he feels like it. But I know there's nothing I can do but tend to your wounds and hope someday you'll come to your senses. And love you for who you are in the way he never could and never will.

The first time you came to Harry and I's house with a broken nose and bleeding lip was an unpleasant surprise. It took quite a few calming draughts to get you to a state in which you could explain to us what happened. I was ready to kill Ron in cold blood after that, but Harry told me to look after Hermione. I found out later, when Ron did floo us, that Harry had broken his nose a bloodied his lip in return. I still thought he deserved death for ever even thinking about laying a finger on you.

Ron stopped being my brother after that. You noticed. You begged me to stop ignoring him. I almost gave in to your wishes, but then you turned up on a Saturday night with a broken arm, and I knew I could never bear to think of _him_ as family again.

He's a filthy liar, Hermione! He'll string you along forever with his well-chosen words and sweet oaths of love. I won't watch him slowly destroy you, because that's what he's doing! He's killing you. He's taking away everything that ever made you who you are. First he took away your strength, then your will, your defiance, your passion. You're an empty shell of you used to be.

But I know the real you is in there somewhere. And I'm determined to bring her out again.

That's why last week Harry and I agreed that the floo connection between your house and ours is to be blocked. You always Apparate in, so it didn't cut you off. Ron's magic is blocked by the wards too, so he can't come through the door either. In short, you're safe from him now. He won't turn up and take you away from me just to hurt you again. I won't let him.

I hold you tighter, you press your face to my chest and I let you cry your blessed heart out. I don't mind that the tears soak through my nightshirt, because you need comfort right now. Nothing could stop me from holding you, nothing. I just hate to see you cry.

'Hermione, Hermione, please,' I whisper. You look up with that broken look, 'Please stop crying.' I can't bear it anymore. Usually he's here by now and you've gone home. Then I'm allowed to cry and Harry comforts me. But this time, you're not going home, you'll stay safe. But it means my tears for you will come eventually, and it seems they've chosen this very moment.

My eyes sting and I feel them filling. I choke on a sob. I don't want you to see me cry. I look pathetic when I cry. And you'll ask me questions I simply can't answer, and give me comfort I don't deserve from you. The tears in my eyes spill over and land in your hair as another sob tears itself from my throat. Your large brown eyes soften from their previous pain into a look of compassion.

'Ginny, what's wrong?' you ask me, as if I could ever tell you. You've stopped crying, and now it's just me blubbing. Your fingers run through my hair, oh gods. I can't bring myself to meet your eyes, I just know that if I look at you right now I'll kiss you.

'Please tell me what's wrong, Ginny.' You say and gods... I can't ignore you. So I meet your eyes.

My breath catches in my throat, not because of how beautiful you look nor because the remaining water in your eyes has left them glazed and glistening so magnificently. But because deep behind those gorgeous brown eyes I can see a little bit of the real Hermione Granger, not the meek and feeble person Ron sculpted but the defiant, brave, _strong_ woman you've always been. And not only are you coming back, but you're coming back for me! I swear, that thought alone is one that makes my heart want to burst in my chest.

The tears still spill from my eyes freely though now they contain hope for you. I hold you closer and whisper silently; _come back, please, stay. Please, Hermione, come back. Be who you used to be again. Gods, I love you. I love you. I love you too much to see you like this anymore._

Out loud I know my words must be more limited.

'Hermione,' I say softly, 'Hermione, never let him near you again, please. He just hurts you. I... I...' _would never hurt you... can't bear it... don't want you to cry again, ever._ 'You don't deserve what he does to you. You deserve someone who loves you completely, not that oaf. Someone who'll never make you cry. Someone who knows who you are and worships you for it.' _Someone like me._

'That's what I want too.'

Your whisper is so quiet I can hardly hear it, I almost think it's my imagination. But you look at me properly again and continue.

'I want someone like that... Believe me, Ginny, I do. Sometimes I even believe I deserve it. I know Ron's never cared about my love of knowledge or supported my choice to teach. But he did love me for a while and sometimes I can pretend he still does.' You take a shaky breath that breaks my heart, 'I need to, because no one else will love me like that... I'm just not good enough. So I have to make do with Ron. I know that sounds awful, but honestly, when he's not in a foul mood he treats me very nicely... almost like a husband should treat his wife.'

I'm speechless for a moment. You don't think anyone loves you? That anyone _could?!_ That good-for-nothing _arse_ of a man has been filling your head with bullshit!

'That isn't true.' I say before I can stop myself. My mind and mouth seem to have separated, 'Of _course_ you deserve someone like that! You, Hermione, are the single most amazing person I've ever met. Even in a situation like this – which any other woman would have collapsed in – you've stayed level headed and put an almost intelligent spin on things! You're kind to anyone and everyone regardless of whether they deserve it or not and you put their needs before your own. You _always _know what to do when the going gets tough. You have the most beautiful mind I've ever encountered and your thirst for knowledge has always inspired me to learn more myself. You look perfect all the time, just as you are, because your smile lights up everything around you and your anger burns with a fiery passion I've never seen before. And you think that no one could love you?! How could anyone not? Only an idiot would see all that about you and not adore you for it.'

Oh no... I think I may have said too much. Yep, you definitely figured it out... You're staring at me with wide eyes and mouth hung open. You stare... and you stare...

'You'll catch flies.' I say helpfully in a weak voice. Your jaw snaps shut and then works as you figure out what to say to my rant. Oh, please, scream at me like I'm revolting, cast me aside and pledge never to see me again, kiss me stupid, punch me, hold me, _anything_ is better than the damn silence.

'How... how long?' you ask.

_Too long. _'Six years...' I whisper through a particularly inconvenient sob.

'Six... Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry.' Oh, it'll never be your fault. It's all mine; it's my weakness. 'Wait, so when we... with the drinking, I was... Oh, God, Ginny, I stringed you along! How could you ever forgive me?! And then _Ron!_'

'It doesn't matter, honestly.' _You were happy_. 'I'm fine.' _I would never take happiness away from you._ 'What _does _matter is that you're safe. And, Harry agrees, you're not going back there.' Your eyes widen and you stare at me with a horrified expression.

'Harry...' I understand immediately and interrupt you.

'He knows... he knew all along...' You sigh with relief. 'He's got his own unrequited feelings.'

You look at the floor, 'Oh...' Then you ask; 'So, are either of you happy?' The sympathy in your eyes makes me want to cry and scream. I force a smile for you.

'Happy enough. I think, after a while, you just... stop caring about your own feelings because they don't matter.' I fix my gaze on the mantel piece. 'Six years is a long time to hurt... eventually you grow more bitter and numb than upset. And Harry's been pining for even longer.'

'Are you... are you bitter about it all?' you ask. Of course I'm bitter! I'm bitter and hurt and so lonely... But, oh Hermione, it's not your fault. You didn't ask me to love you the way I do.

'I am... but not because of you. I'm not angry with you at all. I love you.' I tell you before I think. You stare at me. I open my mouth to apologise for saying it out loud.

But you smile at me. Oh, I've missed your smiles. You giggle a little but hiccough as your emotions overwhelm you. I can see them all flitting across your face. Happiness... sadness... anger... relief... worry... hurt. But you carry on smiling.

'You love me.' You whisper. I nod. You giggle. I smile back at you. 'Somebody loves me.' You sniff. 'And it's you.' Tears spill from your eyes, but still you smile. 'Thank you... thank you.' You put your hands on my cheeks and bring my face towards you.

My breathing stops. You smile softly at me and kiss my forehead then pull back with a slight frown.

'Ginny... I.' You stop and bite your lip; thinking hard. 'I don't... know what to do from here.'

I gather my courage, 'S-stay with me. I know you don't feel the way I feel... but, if there's the slightest chance that you _could_ someday, will you?'

You lick your lips in thought and nod slowly.

'I think,' you say, 'I think that there's a fighting chance that I could...'

Oh, I feel... light; elated. My face hurts from the huge stupid grin plastered across it. You laugh at me and I laugh with you.

I lean towards you, I can't help it. My lips quiver and my hands tremble as I lift them to your face, but I can't bring myself to touch you, if I do I feel like you'll just be air under my fingers... and I'll wake up, and this will just be another one of those fading dreams. Your lips touch mine before I can move any more.

My heart surges as we kiss; my memories had well faded because though I'd remembered that kissing you was amazing, I didn't remember just _how _amazing. I can't hold myself back much... I part your lips with my tongue and plunder your sweet mouth desperately. I feel a moan vibrate from you and one of my own quickly follows. I touch your cheeks, carressing them as I did so long ago. I tangle my fingers in your hair and hope to God this isn't a dream. I missed you I missed you I missed you so much. I missed how you feel and how you taste and smell. I missed seeing you smile and hearing you laugh. I missed hearing you speak of books and politics and everything you're passionate about. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. But now it hurts so wonderfully. I can feel you timidly touching me in return and I'm sure I've died and gone to Heaven.

After some long, blissful while we both pull back. You look dazed and ravished, and yet still the innocence and intelligence radiates from you. We smile at each other, then just sit. Side by side. I feel you grab my hand and slip your slim fingers between my own, you squeeze. I think it's to remind us both that this is real. And that we're here. And we'll make things better for us, together.

* * *

_Don't you just love it when the ending isn't glaringly happy, but leaves you more with a sense of contentment.  
I hope you enjoyed my new feeble attempt at femmeslash and angst... femmeslangst -  
Do please tell me if there are any spelling mistakes and such. And let me know what you think of it._

_FCM  
x_


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